(and this man, the only man i know and have ever known, can read this... because it is impossible ever to offend someone with whom one has actual real love no matter what... what the fuck... and the lafter well.... there is only one place in the world which beats Bolivia for '"Lettie their national hobbies are eatin and larffin...lets run away now and who gives a ferk whether they require paperwork or not cos i have a secret weapon the way he looked at me as i told you ...i have told so many.... his eyes, the most beautiful image i have ever seen in my life by far, just a day after the actual most beautiful kiss, because i had the name of his hero ... ok with an SHhhh....". the way he looked down then up then down and then up and... " Sh*** [as Hardy would rit] .... welcome to....B**** " and unlike all your neighbours here who dont actually read the Guardian they just tell everyone they do.... . Letts... he fuckin meant it.... .. so for fatso there is a problem.... the problem is....
well it is like this, Missus farmer she even got a copy of the best love letter in history a few days back... referred top youtoo and your hotchocolatness which we could use to assist in her hot choc... because ok there is one thing, when the whole world is moaning about two things and we by pure accident actually DO something about number two,
George....
I mean we as we know could put The Guardian rightly out of business, with our '#response' to woke or whatever you want to call patronising folk of a different suntan level by pitying them when you fond why to love em for real and their hard points and then try to attack them viciously for eighteen months and...fail... because i had to i could not have you a fuckin w word attack me as you did and NEARLY get me... nearly..... so close you nearly had me with your first harassing texts....working on my vanity.... i mean no one has ever come close to such skill in having me....
But there is a problem... yestermorn at dawn i inadvertently tested her... my other best friend ever from their so called pestilence.
I mean there is no more ultimate test than to actually after all our last eighteen months see if she would come out from under her slight rock when i shared that " here this may make you laugh" .. the actual life of an actual eight year old.after her silence on my maybe 'oversharing' with her the best luv letter ever...
I though i had crossed the line. ...
And was preparing to walk away... not hurt because the year has been so absurdly healthy and her jokes simply unimaginably brutal and rude.... which you can get away with when your hubby is ten foot tall and well muscled...
But i didnt think she was our equal......
Nor, get the way we have refashioned friendship based on nuthing but pure no lives matter visceral attack between every Higgs particle of DNA ...get all the way into the core...all the way til the wheels fall off and burn [not me]....
So i told her about my real work and how i had offered to try and help ... them.... right up to The Commissioner...
when i have been engaged in also helping her eight year old these last eighteen months....
I thought she would remain silent... i had intruded and crossed that unknowable line....
But no Mister Sir Ali....
She... really is......
One
of ...
us...
'twas impossible.....
I mean you know as we've been tryin 18 months to figure the key to 'em....
and what to love them....for.....
Your Pastie-luv, you complain at her shopaholicism ... to her, face and she fights back.... and you both die of laughter - equals.... in war...
which we knows due to your mutual extreme security in bed and on holiday in someone elses all yer 'road' trips' where ...., is the answer, but.....
I mean it was totally impossible to test one inadvertently with that the true ultimate test of pain and sorrow ... true sad sorrow for a child whom may indeed as we speak be by some lone nutcase [we never will meet, censored for now] and being she knows and farmers dont lie, i could help...... and said so....
But within two lines of whatup she's makin... ferkin jokes again....
